


Mr. Diaz

by therogueheart



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Eddie's Neighbours Think Buck is Eddie's Husband, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Mostly Gen, Mr & Mr Diaz, My First Work in This Fandom, No Smut, Precious Eddie Diaz, Screen Reader Compatible, Screen Reader Friendly, Soft Boys, Soft Eddie, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, boys loving boys, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therogueheart/pseuds/therogueheart
Summary: Eddie's neighbours keep calling Buck 'Mr. Diaz'. It takes a while for him to realise nobody is mistaking him for Eddie.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 977
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	Mr. Diaz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [incorrectnikki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectnikki/gifts).



> So I saw [this prompt](https://fyeahbuddie.tumblr.com/post/636862914917253120/im-sorry-your-workday-is-gonna-suck-please-enjoy) and I couldn't help myself. Its fairly short, but plenty sweet, and is my first published work in the Buddie fandom. I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Beta'd at three in the morning, so any remaining mistakes are my own.

The first time it happens he’s outside, shirtless in the Los Angeles sunshine and soaping up Eddie’s truck. He’d somehow been roped into cleaning it while Eddie took advantage of Chris spending the day with Denny and cleaned inside the house, but he didn’t quite mind. It certainly wasn’t the worst way to spend a half-shift Friday.

Two girls who can’t be older than twenty-three stroll down the street in front of him, slowing down deliberately to blatantly admire the view as he leaned over the hood of the truck, scrubbing at a stubborn patch of what he hoped to God was mud and not bird shit. 

“Now _that’s_ a hunk of man,” one girl announced, possibly louder than she’d intended to. Her friend gave a hum in agreement even as she scrunched her nose and gave her companion a light swat to the shoulder. 

“Don’t even go there. That’s Mr. Diaz,” she chastised, shaking her head and towing her friend on with an embarrassed smile in his direction as they passed. He was puzzling it over, so distracted that he didn’t notice Eddie approach until an ice cold glass was pressed against his exposed ribs. 

The next time it happens, they’re at the birthday of one of Eddie’s elderly neighbours. Eddie is apparently a real community guy, and mows her lawn and fixed her fence once and came over during a power outage to make sure she had candles and food to eat. Buck is there because Eddie is there, and he’s helping himself to a vanilla muffin when someone croaks; “well then, who’s _this_ handsome fella?” from behind him. 

He turned and faced two little old ladies peering up at him from beneath their flowered sun hats. One he recognised dimly as the neighbour they were here for - if only because she had a badge on her chest that declared her eighty-two. The woman in question elbowed her friend lightly, gesturing with a wrinkled hand. 

“Essie! I told you about this one. This is Mr. Diaz. He’s the firefighter,” she grumbled, taking her friend by the elbow and steering her away while Buck watched them in docile confusion, muffin crumbs clinging to the corner of his mouth until Eddie came over with a napkin to wipe them away, rolling his eyes and grumbling about having two kids to keep an eye on. 

“They thought I was you,” Buck pouted as he diligently stood still for Eddie to scrub at the icing stuck to the slope of his lower lip. “That’s not _fair_ , Eddie. I’m _taller_ than you!”

“Because _that’s_ the only difference between us,” Eddie murmured with a lopsided smile, shaking his head fondly. 

“It's the only one that counts!” Buck defended, opening his mouth obediently when Eddie shoved another muffin at him to quiet him down. 

As they say; three is a pattern, and coincidentally the time that Buck realises nobody thinks he’s Eddie. 

They think he’s _Eddie’s husband._

He’d stayed the night, agreeably manhandled into sleeping over when he’d had one too many beers to make it safely home, only just awake and shuffling for the kitchen when someone knocked on the door.

He whuffed a soft breath and rubbed at his eyes as he pulled it open, squinting into the morning sunshine. There was a frazzled looking woman on the porch, a spatula still covered in baking mix gripped in one hand. 

She didn’t look the least bit surprised, offering him a pleasant but slightly strained smile. “Morning, Mr. Diaz! It's so clichè but I’m baking for my kid’s charity sale and I don’t have nearly enough milk. Can I be a total pain and borrow some? I just need about two cups”. 

He blinked at her, tugging at the hem of Eddie’s shirt before he rubbed at his jaw. “Its, uh. Its Buck - Buckley, actually,” he stepped aside and motioned that she was welcome to follow him as he shuffled off towards the kitchen again. She popped inside after him, mindful not to drip batter or flour anywhere. 

“Oh! Well, you know. It's totally fine not to take your husband’s last name. Very progressive - I admire that”. 

He pulled the milk out of the fridge, leaning back to peer at her from behind the door. “What?”

“My Aunt never took her husband's name, but we think that’s because she always intended to kill him and get her hands on that will money as early as she could. Dying of an allergic reaction a month after the wedding? Very suspicious. Oh! Is that the milk? Thank you, really! You’re a total lifesaver, I’ll be sure to keep a few things behind for you and your man!”

She took the whole pint bottle from his hand, waving cheerfully before she was gone in a puff of flour dust, like the fairy godmother he’d never wanted. 

“...What?”

He brought it up to Hen later on in the day, when he’d showed up for his shift. He and Eddie had almost fully opposing shifts this week, and for once he was glad of it. By the gleam in Hen’s eye though, it wouldn’t be long before half of Los Angeles knew about his conundrum, let alone Eddie. 

“So all of Eddie’s neighbours think you’re the _other_ Mr. Diaz?” She asked, leaning back and taking an overly theatrical sip of her coffee. He cast her a pained look but nodded, catching the snack bar that Bobby tossed him as he walked past. 

“I mean, I don’t get it! Eddie and I don’t act like a couple. And not to presume - but he’s only ever dated women since he’s been here. Neither of us even wear rings!”

“Lots of couples don’t wear their rings. Especially couples in jobs like ours,” Hen pointed out, lips stretching into a smirk. “But, you _really_ can’t see why they’d think you and Eddie are together?”

He shook his head, low lip wobbling into a put-upon pout. Eddie would undoubtedly kill him over this - especially if it somehow made its way back to Chris. The other man was prickly like a cactus when it came to dating, especially after Shannon had died. He opened his mouth to reply but his phone pinged, and when he checked it was from Eddie. 

He couldn’t stop himself grinning at the screen when he opened the photo. It was of Eddie, a quizzical and slightly apprehensive frown on his face, glancing aside at a parakeet perched on his shoulder. He’d sent it along with the caption ‘Jackson has a parakeet. Not sure if I trust him..’

 _“That’s_ why people think you’re dating,” Hen announced wisely from her seat, and before Buck could question her, the alarm call blared out. 

At the end of the eighteen hour shift he crawled home and burrowed under his blankets, falling asleep and wondering idly if he and Eddie had actually been in a platonic relationship this whole time. 

He found himself back at Eddie’s the next day, their day off for the week aligned despite their alternating shifts. He was in the garden trying to decipher how to put together the disability-friendly swing set while Eddie made them sandwiches in the kitchen. It was one of the few things Eddie could be trusted to make and Buck’s stomach rumbled at the thought, prompting him to bounce inside just as Eddie stepped from the hall and into the kitchen, setting a tupperware box down on the table. 

“What are those?” He asked curiously, dropping to peer through the plastic. 

“I was just about to ask you the same thing. Some lady dropped them off, said they were a thank you for the milk?”

Buck recoiled, curiosity frothing into suspicion. “Don’t eat those”. 

Eddie looked perplexed. “What? Why?”

“Something tells me if you have your will drafted, those cookies can’t be trusted,” he muttered, edging around the table and towards the fridge. 

Eddie cast him a bemused glance before he turned away, muttering under his breath in Spanish that Buck couldn’t understand but was endeared by none the less. 

Two weeks and one more instance of being referred to as ‘Mr. Diaz’ and Buck still hadn’t quite figured out how he was gonna bring it up to Eddie that the majority of the man’s immediate neighbourhood thought they were not only banging, but were deeply committed to each other. Buck had never been married in his life but Eddie had had Shannon, and he wasn’t quite sure how his best friend would take the whole scenario after the mess that had been their almost-renewal. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you saw it) the universe decided to convene and fix that for him. They were at a winter wonderland together when it happened. The trip was supposed to have been for Chris, who’d decided last minute that he’d rather go to sleepover with Denny and make gingerbread houses. It hadn’t made sense to waste their tickets, so they’d bundled into the most hideous Christmas sweaters they owned and set off. 

And Buck was having the time of his life.

Surrounded by fairground rides and craft stalls and twinkly lights. So entranced that he hadn’t noticed when he’d wandered off from Eddie, not until it was too late and the other man had been swallowed up by the crowd around them. He wandered back and forth for a few minutes, trying to use his height as an advantage, but the location was surprisingly big and after a few moments he gave up actively searching, planting himself next to a stand of bright red lights before he pulled out his phone. 

He was just about to tap Eddie’s number when an arm linked through his and spun him lightly on his heel. It was Eddie, looking softer than silk and smiling at him like he knew something Buck doesn’t. 

“I just bumped into Mrs. Coulson from the top of the street,” Eddie remarked conversationally, reaching out to straighten a lock of Buck’s hair. They’ve both been growing theirs out lately - Eddie’s hanging in his eyes like it used to when they first met and Buck’s just starting to brush at his brows. 

“She told me,” Eddie continued, holding his gaze, “that my husband was wandering around like a puppy in a cornfield and that I ought to find him before some single letch thinks they’ve found lonely, hot squeeze just in time for Christmas".

Buck’s cheeks burned, lips parting but offering no sound. Of course, it would be easy enough to play dumb. Laugh and act like he had no idea the majority of Eddie’s street was convinced they were married. Except nothing in Buck’s life had ever been easy - barring, maybe falling in love with Eddie - and he knew in the immediate moment he looked like a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. 

It tells Eddie everything he needs to know like a neon sign above the freeway. 

Eddie steers them towards a hot chocolate stand, their arms still interlinked. “You know, I thought for a while that my shit luck with dating was just how it was meant to be. I get it - I’m a single dad. I'm on the wrong side of thirty and I’ve got a job that means I’m never around and I could die on any day ending with Y”. Eddie sounded casual, light. 

Too scared he’ll put his foot right in a pile of shit, he kept his own mouth shut. 

“I just didn’t realise that nobody wanted to date me because I was married”. Eddie glanced at him, all sparkling eyes under the bright lights, briefly glancing away to order two large hot chocolates with extra toppings, paying before pulling Buck off to the side to wait. 

“In my defence,” Buck managed, finally unsticking his tongue from behind his teeth, “I didn’t realise we were married either”. Eddie shot him a curious glance, corners of his mouth quirking upwards. Their hot chocolates were ready almost immediately and Eddie carefully handed Buck the first one before steering them to a bench just off to the side of the giant ferris wheel, pulling him down to sit so they were pressed together from ankle to shoulder. 

“You know what the strangest thing about all of this is?” Eddie asked after a pause, fingers drumming lightly on his paper mug. He looked ethereal here - soft and glowing and surrounded by lights, hair a little ruffled and lips stained dark pink by the amount of times he’d licked them to stop them from drying out in the slight nip of cold carried by the night time breeze.

“What?” Buck managed, heart beating staccato in his chest. This was it. This is when Eddie cast him aside, asked him not to come around any more, put the inevitable distance between them so-

“We’re married, and only just going on our first date”. 

Oh. 

When Eddie kisses him, he tastes like hot chocolate and whipped cream.


End file.
